


You Could Make This Place Beautiful

by sstasia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, boat baby, but also drama because it's thrones, dadvos, fluff af, good boy ghost, targlings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:43:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sstasia/pseuds/sstasia
Summary: The day the Dragon Queen opened her eyes again was the same day the sun set gently in the east.In which, Daenerys is awoken amongst death and whispered a soft promise of life.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 55
Kudos: 145





	1. have you found her yet?

**Author's Note:**

> Eight seasons and and six months later and she finally makes an account.. What can I say, except that I must be so far behind on so much. Unsure if this fandom is even still active, but I know at least that I'm personally still not entirely over whatever happened last season. I still have so many ideas always swirling around my head, I figured I'd at least start tossing them out. Love it, hate it, I don't really care. Still in debate if I'll even continue with this one. S/O to anyone who recognizes the poem.

_You’re my queen.. Now and always…_

The sting of betrayal wrung sharper than any dagger ever could. She’d never been so confused, she felt warm blood crawling up her throat, streaming down her face, for a moment she thought the world might turn red. 

But, no. 

Rather, everything around began fading to a soft humming gray until she lost herself in the darkness of his eyes.

Distantly, she was aware that someone was screaming. 

And just like that - darkness turned to light. White so blinding she wasn’t sure if it was even a color at all. It hurt like no sun she’d ever seen, but it warmed her in a way so vaguely reminiscent of the Red Sea she could almost smell the grainy sands.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like this - floating in a comforting abyss just waiting for something to happen, although perhaps not waiting for anything at all. In the back of her mind, she still heard someone screaming. 

And then, suddenly, out of the brightness _(darkness?)_ came a small speck of black. It slowly morphed to a green and then grew and grew so rapidly she hardly noticed that it wasn’t growing at all - merely she was moving towards it. 

Dragonstone. 

How? 

Except, she didn’t wonder really. She felt so removed from herself now, so removed from her own thoughts. 

_Who was screaming?_

The grasses against her feet felt longer than she remembered. They were soft to the touch when they used to be almost sharp, they weaved between her toes and up her calves. She was so distracted by the feel on her skin and the smell of the sea to really notice that someone was talking to her. 

And suddenly it was a face she knew - but didn’t. Violet eyes, silver hair, it seemed as though she should know this man. He wore a band coated with thick rubies in his hair, and spoke to her in a voice so comforting she thought she might be lulled to sleep. 

He was explaining something to her, that much she could understand. 

“To see other lifetimes - to understand your possibilities, those that were taken from you.” 

Other lifetimes? 

So, truly this was death after all. At some point, in her wonders amongst the grasses and the blinding abyss the thought had distantly crossed her mind. A part of her, somewhere, was mildly off put.

Going back? 

He spoke again, looking at her still with such tenderness in his violet eyes. He stood tall above her, but she felt as if their faces were level, as though he was her equal and not someone (something?) of such a higher understanding. 

“No child. Going forward.” 

And as quickly as it all began, the world was white again, and she felt herself falling through the open air - the sensation on her face vaguely reminding her of scaley sons. The world came to a resounding halt, and the air around her seemed to stiffen in anticipation. A wave of clarity suddenly washed over her, coupled with the most intense relief she’d ever felt. For the first time since the start of it all, she realized that she was the one screaming. 

xx

Reality (or at least that’s what she supposed it was) hit her abruptly as she rose in a soft bed or red. The first thing she noticed was that she seemed much younger than she remembered, perhaps a girl even. At this age she should still be lost in Essos with.. With Viserys. 

His name sent waves of nausea and sadness down her spine. 

She shook her head out of those thoughts. Trying to figure out how she made it from Dragonstone to this new place. Although, nothing really made sense anymore - she was dead after all wasn’t she? 

_What was it that he had said? Understanding possibilities? Other lifetimes? Who..?_

Perhaps that’s what this was. Another chance for her to do things differently. Starting way back in Essos, before there were dragons, and wars, and dead men, and even thrones to concern herself with. Although, she supposed, the looming threat of the throne was something that’s always tainted her life. She still remembers what it looked like, what it felt like beneath her fingertips.  
Powerful.  
Lonely. 

“Good morning little princess!” A face she’d never seen before came bursting through the double doors. “Time to get you ready for the day. You’re brothers and nephews are returning from Summerhall this morn!” 

Brothers? 

The look Daenerys was giving her was undoubtedly perplexing, because the small maidservant stopped in place with the sloshing water basin, allowing some of its contents to slip onto the floor. 

“Well, don’t give me that face! Your mother will want you to be up and ready soon no doubt, come along then!”

Mother. Something in her very core shook at the thought. Her mother? A woman she had only spent all her life dreaming of, aching for. 

Her mother was here? Waiting for her to be ready soon? 

There may have been no sweeter sentence in the world than this one. Except perhaps.. 

How about my queen?

_No. He wasn’t here, wasn’t a part of this. This was hers, this was her family, her people, her-_

“Still in bed my sweet?” 

Was there ever a voice so soothing, so soft and gentle, so full of absolute and unquestionable love - she didn’t think so. I know this women, I must. 

Daenerys glanced up reluctantly. Almost afraid that if she looked at her she would disappear, as she did so often in her dreams. 

Instead, she was greeted with bright violet eyes so very similar to her own. The woman’s face was regal - more noble than she felt she would ever be capable of looking with such a crown. Her cheekbones stood tall and proud, broadcasting her fair and smooth skin. Her hair wasn’t fashioned at all, instead cascading down the sides of her adoring face in soft curls, it was a shiny silver. 

Her eyes held more love than Daenerys was prepared to handle, and it brought tears to her own. 

“Rhaella?” She questioned in a small whisper. 

The women stopped at the edge of her bed, promptly sitting down besides her while reaching for her hand. 

“Of course my love?” She reached gently to wipe away the stray tears that managed to make there way down Daenerys’s cheeks, the action only acting as a catalyst to prompt more and more to follow in their wake. 

“M-mom,” She whispered again, her hand going up to grab at the one touching her cheek so tenderly. She was afraid to touch her, afraid to do anything that might make this image, this person, all this love sitting in front of her abscond. 

“Dany?” The women whispered, taking her daughters tears as an opening for her to envelop her daughter in a tight reassuring hug. 

_Dany. No, not that name, anything but that._

Rhaella was not expecting her baby to collapse into her touch, wailing deeply in her chest.

“What’s wrong sweetling? What happened?”

Everything. Daenerys wanted to say, and yet at the same time, nothing. She hadn’t felt this whole in a long time (maybe not in her whole life) hadn’t felt so loved and appreciated since.. The sound of sloshing seas and stolen kisses floated through the back of her mind. No. 

She didn’t answer, instead she just clung to the women tighter, trying her best to ingrain the feeling of her hug and touch into the deepest recesses of her memory. On some level, Daenerys already knew this wouldn’t last. 

“Hey now,” Rhaella started, pulling back from her daughter ever so slightly to get a better angle of her face, “tell me what’s going on darling.” 

She shook her head, still partly in awe and fully in denial of what was happening. 

“It’s - it’s, it’s nothing.” She started shaking her head and holding her mother’s - her Muna’s - hand firmly against her cheek. “I just never thought…” 

She couldn’t even begin, didn’t even know what to say or how to say it. 

“You’re so perfect Muna, everything i’ve ever dreamed.. I..” 

Rhaella looked taken aback at the statement, confusion clearly writ across her features. She wiped the last remaining tears streaking down her daughter’s face away. 

“You are the perfect one my little dragon, my little girl.” Her mother paused kissing her forehead tenderly, “I love you, so very much.” 

She had forgotten what a smile felt like on her face. 

“There’s my little dārilaros!” Her mother whispered into her hair, smiling at her own grin. “Come now, let’s get ready to greet your brothers! They’re awaiting you to break fast, we had an early morn feast presented for their arrival!” 

She didn’t want her to leave, but didn’t know how to ask her to stay. She watched as the older woman - as her mother - headed out the door, still soaking in the feeling of her touch and resolute love. _Muna. _

She smiled to herself as the maidservant readied her. Doing her best not to rush through the process. Could it be possible that she’d get to meet Rheagar? Her brother, the one who’s memory in Westeros plague her since the start of it all? 

The Redkeep was decorated so differently than she remembered. Perhaps because it was not in ruin? Targaryen banners streamed along the expansive hallways, with Dragon sigils lining all door and entryways. How it should be. 

Her mother was the first to greet her again, taking her small arm and leading her into the expansive great hall. 

Time slowed as she took in all the people litter throughout the room. 

Her eyes immediately met with the brother she’d forgotten. _Viserys._ He looked just as she remembered - as if his was a face she could ever forget. He held more love in his gaze than she had ever hoped to see, least not at the age he appeared to be. Once, perhaps, he had looked at her with as much love in the lifetime she had just left. _Just escaped?_

She felt herself smiling back at him, she wanted to run to him, hadn’t realized how much she deeply missed him - her brother, her only brother. Except no. There was another. 

Her eyes skimmed over a shorter Dornish women, who was attempting to make conversation with Viserys. She seemed her mother’s age perhaps? A bit younger maybe. Seated next to her was a young girl that looked Dornish as well, only with bright violet eyes that allowed no one to doubt who she might truly be. _Rhaenys. _

Next to her niece, was an even younger boy, he looked like Viserys - with bright Valyrian features and a wolfish grin about him. He smiled at her, waving her way and perhaps at her mother too. _Aegon._ She felt her own arm lift to wave back. Still in slow motion, everything was moving so slowly, so surreal. 

He was next to the boy. Sitting tall and proud, as much the warrior and King she thought him to be. _Rheagar._ He was speaking to the Dornish woman across the two children, saying something that was making her laugh and blush. 

Look at me. His hair was a bit longer than shoulder length, and curled more than hers and Viserys’. He had a strong jaw, and subtle nose. Finally, he turned to look at her with violet eyes so deep they took her aback. His eyes… she only thought of - _no - No. He wasn’t here, this was her family, her time with them, her new life, hers._

She looked up at her mother, squeezing at the women’s arm before letting her go. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to depart, but her feet were taking her towards Rheagars warm embrace. She reached him in a flurry of footsteps. The world around her seemed to fade as he took her in his arms, she pulled back to get a better look at his face - Jon’s face. 

“You’re no mad queen.” 

She hardly believed it when it came out of his mouth. Shock painting across all of her features. He seemed so certain as he said it - so aware of her out of body experience. _Mad Queen. The fire. The regret._

He smiled at her then, and time slowed still. She felt the familiar tug of the abyss, saw the white closing in around her. _No, please - not yet._

Her last fleeting thought before it all faded away was that there was no father. No madness here. No threats and thrones. Only joy. 

xx

Her headache woke her before the sun did. Pounding through her skull and reverberating down the bones of her face. Where was she? She felt soft sheets under her fingertips and the warmth of a body beside her. She opened her eyes to the stinging of the sun, and was greeted by pillow full of black curls. 

No, not him. 

Her throat grew tight and she felt her heartbeat quicken. Quietly, she tore through the front of her robe looking for the white or red skin screaming of a scar. Her chest with smooth, and her waist had his arms around them. _Safe. _

She knew she should be afraid. He had killed her in the last life hadn’t he? But there was an almost eerie calmness about her demeanor that she could not shake. 

Really though, she found herself wondering if this lifetime would cause her more pain than the last one. Mother. Her heart longed for Rhaella’s soft touches and tight hugs again - she wanted her whole life so desperately to meet the family that was taken from her, and again it seems as if they were lost to her forever. 

“Muna!” 

Her heart froze again. Whatever illusion time seemed to be, it slowed yet again, as two little bodies streaked in through the open doorway, silver hair streaming behind them. _No, it can’t. _

Her heart unfroze to immediately split into thousands of fragmented pieces when a pair of excited violet eyes met hers. A little girl had clearly out ran her brother in a race to her (their) bed. Small skinny arms were wrapped around her neck before she could even process what was happening, and quickly another body shuffled onto the bed with deep grey eyes and significantly shorter silver curls. 

“Don’t even pretend like you let her win this time Robb!” Jon (her Jon, her husband?) shouted, scooping the boy up into strong and sturdy arms. 

Robb? Another sliver of her heart shattered. She knew who these two were. 

_My son,_ she thought looking at him as his father threw him over his head in glee. Two little arms loosened around her neck, and a small face to match her own pulled back to meet her eyes. 

“Butterfly kisses Muna!” 

_My little girl. My little girl._ Tears welled up in her eyes as her daughter smushed their faces together. A thousand feelings at once.

Please, don’t take this away from me. Oh gods, please don’t, you can’t. 

“Rhaella, give your mama some room to breathe!” Jon laughed from down by her ankles, where he sat with their son, with their Robb, on his lap. 

“Where’s your brother? Huh? Little Dragons?”

She was surrounded by a fit of giggles as another little body came crawling to the doorway. 

“Papa?” He whispered, a mop of black hair in complete disarray on his tiny head, a small fist rubbing at his eyes. Another? Her throat grew even tighter as she fought with the tears brimming in her eyes - she need to see his face, she needed to see all of their faces. Would she ever get enough of this, enough of them. My babies. 

“Get up here A! Before Lya beats ya to it?” 

Lya? A? 

A rush of long feathery black curls zipped by the little boy holding onto the door knob. Another little girl, with even longer tresses and the brightest violet eyes she’d ever seen came bouncing onto the bed. 

“Mama! Papa!” 

Her excitement was quickly followed by her sleepy brother, who jumped up behind her and onto her back to try and pin her down. How can this be? Yet, how can it not? 

“That’s cheating Aemon!” 

“You’re cheating ‘ana!” 

These babies. These raven haired and silver haired beauties. _How could she be so lucky?_

“You’re supposed to be nice to baby A, Lya!” The silver haired princess still nestled in her lap warned the other little girl, the other little girl who could only be her little sister. 

“The baby got us up Mama, she won’t stop screamin’!”

“You’re still a baby too Aemon!” Spoke her grey eyed son. He was crawling off his father’s lap making his way over to her and his other siblings too. 

_Robb. Rhaella. Lyanna. Aemon._

She’d never felt so much love blossom in her at once. It was positively overwhelming, she was brimming with so much adoration it was suffocating. _Please, please don’t take this - anything but this._

“Why so sad Mama?” 

And suddenly, three sets of violet eyes and two sets of grey were all beaming up at her. She hadn’t even noticed that her tears had managed to escape, cascading down her cheeks and giving way to all of the raw emotion coursing through her veins. 

“You okay Dany?” 

_Dany. Not Dany. _

She couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear to take her eyes off of the four most beautiful human beings she had ever seen that all seemed to be trying to hug her now.

“I kiss it betta for you, Muna” 

“It’s okay, hugs make it okay, you’re too good for cries!”

“I luver you too much Mama, for you to be so sads, don’t be sads!”

“No cries Muna! No time for tears!” 

“Daenerys?” 

She finally met his gaze. Stormy eyes meeting hers through the rivers of tears. She wanted to hate him, wanted to scream at him still, to make him understand the stinging in her chest. But how could she? How could she hate him? He’d given her this. 

“Alright little ones! Let’s give Mama a minute hmm??”

No one made a move to leave, still holding a kissing, and grabbing at her to make the tears go away. She was too frozen to react, and too petrified to let go. 

“Last one to make it to their little sister’s room is a rotten dragon egg!” 

And like life, like her last fleeting breath, they were gone. Racing down the hallway in a flash of black and silver, tiny feet pattering down large stone hallways. 

The Redkeep. 

She hadn’t even noticed. 

“Hey,” he started, scooting up to her side of their large bed. “What’s the matter?” 

She tensed as he took her small form into his chest. Pulling her in with his warm strong arms, something she would’ve found so positively comforting a meer month ago. As if time even mattered anymore. She wasn’t sure if it ever even existed at all. 

She couldn’t even answer him - she didn’t have the chance too. She felt that familiar pull begin to claw up her spine. 

_No. No. Please don’t take me from this. Don’t take me from these perfect perfect babies. PLEASE NO._

“Jon please..”

“You are no mad queen.”

His black eyes enveloped her whole. This time, she knew immediately that it was her screaming.


	2. the realm of repetition

The world around her is ever changing.

One moment, the familiar sun of the great grass sea is kissing her cheeks - she looks out onto a purple sunset until it’s the same shade a Viserys’s eyes.

Another, the harsh winds of Dragonstone pull at strands of silver hair. It smells like the home she always hoped it could be. The seas swallow her whole and it _ burns _. 

She’s looking up into the red eyes of her dragon - his scales begin to morph into the white fur of a direwolf.

The world turns white and she recognizes it as snow, littered softly across the lands of the North. She is fairly certain that she is flying - she sees the wall in the distance. 

Bare feet brush the stone streets of Pentos, she is racing after her brothers silver locks almost as quickly as the thundering in her heart. Lightening erupts. _Dracarys._

Her hand grazes the metallic arm of a throne made of a thousand swords. Somewhere in the distance, a baby is crying.

Masks from the Sons of the harpy surround her in a dark abyss. She hears swords being drawn out of fresh sheathes. Behind hind one mask, the eyes shine a bright blue.

She’s braiding Missandei’s hair, dark curls threaded through her fingers turn to dust. 

She holds a whip in her hand, it morphs into a serpent, and bites. Suddenly, venomous fangs turn into those of a golden lion. 

Everything comes into focus in a flash of blinding light. She’s holding onto a door handle, muffled voices are on the other side - for a moment she thinks she might recognize them. 

“There is much that awaits you yet.” The rubies he wears in his crown flash before his face comes into focus again. So many questions are waiting to roll out of her lips - _why?_ She wants to ask it most of all, she's trying to ask it, but something inside of her is frozen in fear - in awe? 

Three ravens caw in the grey sky above her.

“Do not be mislead.” He snaps, and their shrieks disappear. 

Her focus is back on the handle, on trying to make sense of the voices on the other side. She feels him encouraging her forward, a gentle push to her left shoulder. There are still so many questions, she hesitates, taking a shaky breath _(was she breathing this whole time? She can't remember)_ Finally she pulls against the handle. The door is red. 

xx

She wakes up screaming. 

The sloshing of the seas are rocking the boat in tandem with her desperate cries. 

“Daenerys!?”

Someone is holding her from behind, strong arms gathering the pieces of her back together. The room is relatively dark, a few select candles are carefully placed as to not alight the wooden walls and floors. Even as she began to recognize her surroundings, she did not stop screaming. 

“DANY!” 

She wasn’t sure if she loved or hated that name coming from his soft lips, by now she knows who the voice belongs to. He spun her around, grey eyes boring into violet. She finally stopped screaming. The silence of the room is filled with both of their heavy breathing, his gaze is both questioning and concerned. 

“Your Grace?!”

There was a pounding on the door. Neither of them moved. 

“My Queen?!? Are you okay?” 

_Was she?_

She recognized these voices as well, and some part of her recognized she would need to respond immediately before -

There was a loud thundering against the wooden door, as if a body was being thrown against it. He rolled off of her, the cold air that took his place finally was enough to shake her out of her stupor. 

“I’m fine Grey Worm! Everything is fine!” She knew it was a lie as it left her lips.

“Your Grace, you were screaming for quite some time." A new voice began, "We merely just wanted to check in on you, and make sure that everything-”

“Thank you Lord Tyrion, but your presence is not needed at the current moment.” 

She was rising from the bed now, bare feet cold against the wooden floorboards as she reached hopelessly for her fur robe, she suddenly knew _(remembered?)_ exactly where she was. 

“Khaleesi?”

His voice took her by surprise. A shaky hand rose to cover her parted lips. 

“Are you sure everything is okay Khaleesi?” The concern in his voice was perhaps the most genuine of them all, it wrung softly in her heart.

“Yes,” She started, her words coming out in a gentle breath. “Thank you everyone for being so.. Attentive, but please go back to your chambers.”

She finally finished wrapped the robe around her small frame, walking towards the doorway with careful steps to listen for fading footsteps. It was a moment before she heard them begin to depart. She lingered at the doorway for a bit, to pertified to turn and face him. It didn’t matter anyways, he came to her instead. 

“Daenerys?” He questioned, bring those safe familiar arms back around her form again. She nearly felt the need to flinch at his touch - _it had all seemed so real._

Instead, she was too embarrassed to even look at him, turning her face to the floorboards. They had only been at sea for a moonturn at most, yet he was the only one she felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. 

“What happened? What did you see?” 

Her throat was too thick with tears to respond, she just leaned back into his touch, letting them fall in soft rivers down her rosy cheeks. It was so real, so vivid, and so very painful. Yet, the memories of it all seemed to be fading with each moment she lingered in reality. 

_Is this reality? Will this last?_

“It’s okay,” He reassured, pulling her back into him further while lightly taking her back to the bed. “We’re nearly at White Harbor now, wherever you were in your dreams - you’re safe now, with me.”

_Was she?_ A part of her wasn’t sure if she ever felt as safe as she did now - with him and on their little boat. Another part of her still smelled the smoke of a burning city, and still tasted bitter blood. 

She tried to make sense of it all as she fell back into the sheets with him. Calloused hands running through silver hair, trying to rock her through the tears. 

“Missandei!?” She gasped suddenly, pulling up from him abruptly and looking towards the door. 

“Hey, hey?! Missandei is fine!” He assured, reaching out to her with one arm while remaining propped up on the others elbow. 

“No! No! She wasn’t fine Jon! No one was!” Her voice was frantic, heart racing. _What was real?_

“Yes, she was just in here with you undoing your braids when I walked in.” Her face was in-between his hands now. Grey eyes boring into hers, trying to understand. 

She looked away first. Needing a moment to right herself, and really remember exactly where she had woken up. She hadn’t felt so afraid in a long time, the heat of dragonfire and the screaming of a city still lingering in her conscious. 

Briefly, the faces of a family forgotten flashed through her mind, and she distantly feels the unrelenting love coming through a mother’s strong embrace. _Stormborn._ She thinks she hears children’s laughter lightly beckoning at the edges of her mind. 

_Don’t be mislead again._

She looks back up to meet his grey eyes to find his searching her. 

“What’s going on Dany? Let me in.” He asks softly, she can tell he’s trying desperately to understand where her mind is at, to understand what just happened. She doesn’t think she could explain it to him even if she wanted too - it was so real, _so terrifying._

She shook her head at him slowly, before pushing herself back against his chest. He seemed reluctant to allow her to dismiss whatever had just happened, but relented settling back with her amongst the sheets in a tangle of limbs. 

She forced herself desperately to think of silver haired and grey-eyed children, and not of a pointed dagger pressed against her skin. 

xx

She hated the cold. 

Perhaps because it had stolen her dragon, or because it went against fire and everything she embodied since the start of it all. She tried not to think it was because of everything she experienced last time she was in the north - _there was no last time, this time was the first time?_

She had heard of dragons dreams before, and even experienced them herself once or twice in her time spent in Meeran and with the Dothraki. _That was no dragon dream._ It felt more clear than the visions she had in the House of the Undying, like a life she had lived and lost, but yet, here she was? 

Jon had questioned her more about the screaming in the morning, but she was quick to dismiss it as just a routine nightmare - “My life hasn’t always been as pleasant as my time with you.” She'd teased, and that seemed to be enough to satisfy him for the time being. 

Missandei had come to her rooms shortly after he had left, and she couldn’t help but cling to her in a fit of desperation. Missandei didn’t even ask. She just hugged her tighter and inquired on about her standings with the King in the North a bit later in the conversation. Daenerys hardly even entertained the question, focused more on getting Missandei’s opinion about Naarth and what she hopes to do after it's all over. 

“Let's focus on getting through this battle with the dead men, your grace.” 

She was right, and it did nothing to settle the unease Daenerys was feeling. She tried to remind herself what was important now, what she came here fighting for. She tried not to think about anything that might come after. 

Briefly, at some point, she wondered about Jon’s heritage. About Rheagar and Lyanna Stark. Wonder if any of it would prove true at all. She contemplated telling him, when he came to her chambers again later that evening she almost did. Instead, she fell immediately into his arms waiting as if she’d been missing his touch for moons on end. He was just as eager to respond. 

She laid awake in a stupor following their second round of lovemaking. Her mind to pre-occupied with all the possibilities of the coming future, far too relestless for sleep - and perhaps, far too afraid to close her eyes again.

He seemed to understand her distress. He didn’t ask, but he laid awake with her running fingers through her hair and whispering to her until she finally drifted off into slumber. She relished his touch, for a fleeting moment she feared that she might not awake to it again, and clung to him a bit tighter at the thought. 

The days went on like this, her time was spent mostly discussing battle strategy, how to best mend dragonglass, and attempting to coordinate with her traveling Dotharki and Unsullied armies along the Kingsroad.

Tyrion, Varys, Jorah and Jon all seemed to be well versed when it came to strategy, but she found herself briefly missing Olenna, Yara, and Ellaria. The loss of those allies seemed even more terrifying to her now, for reasons she couldn’t quite place. 

_Do not be mislead._

They arrived at White Harbor faster than anticipated. Lord Manderly was waiting for them along the unforgiving bay of White Knife. He greeted Jon enthusiastically, and was proper yet wary of her. She took note immediately, and for some reason his treatment felt familiar. Like a stab wound in the center of her chest. Distantly, she heard herself dreaming _Dracarys._

No.

She confided in Jon later that night, almost reluctant to mention her silly fears. He was adamant that she needn’t worry. That the northerners were a proud people and she just needed to give them time. That they would come to see her for the true and just Queen that she truly was.

“I want to be more than that." She started, not even realizing she vocalized her protest until he paused. "I don’t want to be seen as just some ruler, I want them to understand how much I care.” 

“They will Dany. Just give them time.” He paused again briefly, kissing the top of her hair in deep thought. “I don’t think they’ve ever really experienced what it’s like to have a Monarch that actually cares.” 

She wanted to scream at him. 

“You care.” She says instead, turning to look at him - to make sure he really understood what she was saying. He pauses his hands along her shoulder at the statement, looking into her eyes in agreement but still in confusion. 

“You care about the people of the north so much Jon.” She continues, he’s nodding at her gently now, encouraging her to continue on. She swallows briefly, eyes averting from his for a moment as she trying to garner the confidence to continue. 

“What I mean is.. Well don’t you think it might be easier, might make more sense to..” She paused again, she hadn’t mentioned a word of this to her advisor yet - not even to Missandei. 

“Dany?” He questioned, and for the first time since what felt like the beginning she finally loved the way the name came out of his lips. She melted for a minute. _ Together. _ Her heart clenched at the thought - something stopped her though, a feeling she didn't yet understand. 

“I don’t know what I was getting at.” 

She lied, holding her breath as there eyes locked. He seemed frozen for a minute, frozen in time, frozen in thought. Finally, just when she thought her lungs might erupt in flames - 

“Dany.. What’s going on?” He asked, searching her face for clarification, he'd seen right threw her facade. “Is this something…" He paused again, attempted to understand. "Do you not want me to come to see you anymore?”

She wanted to say no instantaneously, it was the first thought that came to her mind, yet still she hesitated. 

“No.” She said finally, “No, not at all.”

He nodded again slowly, looking slightly insecure before planting another kiss at the top of her head. 

_Together._

She thought again. _We should be ruling together._

Somewhere in the back of her head a voice agreed, a voice that was not her own. 

xx

He hadn’t stayed with her that night. He couldn’t really, New Castle was under careful guard by the Manderly’s, and he didn’t want to rouse any suspicions about his newfound _allegiance_ with the Dragon Queen. 

Tyrion had pulled him aside soon after he spent his first night with her. Unsurprisingly.

Perhaps, he had not meant to be demeaning - but he had ridiculed Jon so prudently about the inappropriateness of their _relations,_ and what it might mean for the Queen had they been brought to the attention of others. Jon was mildly reminded of the days he spent as a small child being scolded by Lady Catelyn, perhaps it was the wave of annoyance and shame the swirled down his spine at her Hand's words. 

Rather then heed Tyrion’s advice, he had decidedly fired back at the dwarf, simply asking whether or not he had voiced these concerns with the Queen as well. If anything, she was as deep in this as he was - or so he originally thought. 

He was certain he was in love with her. He had thought it after their first night spent together. Well, in actuality, after their first morning spent together. After he woke with the most beautiful women in the entire seven kingdoms - in the entire world - in his undeserving arms. They spent hours in bed that day, holding onto each other like they were afraid to let go and swapping stories, passions, fears, and dreams. He left knowing he was completely in love with her, like he had almost left a part of himself in her room with her that day. Perhaps, there would always be a part of him with her now. 

Initially, he had hoped she felt for him at least half of what he felt for her. Night after night, he had begun to realize how likely this hope was. It terrified him, but in the most beautiful way. He had quickly become addicted to her. She wasn’t only ever present in his thoughts, she very well had become all he thought about. Reminders of dead men and political turmoil would normally turn his taste to ash and completely destroy his hunger for life. Not anymore. 

Those things used to fuel him, they were his subtle reminders that he had to persist had to move forward. Now, he awakens each day hungry for her - just to be near her. Talk of whites, and of the wall only now served as something that could hurt _her,_ his Daenerys. A part of him began regretting asking for her help, he knew it put her very life on the line.

Thoughts look those now left him doubled over. He had to lie to Ser Daovs about being seasick on too many occasions throughout their trip to White Harbor. His anxieties only grew the more time he spent at the Queens side. 

He knew he was in love. 

And, he had thought (hoped?) she was in love with him too. Yet, lately…. 

Something was off with her, with his Daenerys. It terrified him. Terrified him far more than the thought of the icy grasp of some blued eyed demon. He couldn’t bear to lose her now, couldn’t bear to watch her drift away from him in the way she seemed to be. 

She went from a smiling face that was in his arms nearly every waking moment they shared alone, to someone who couldn’t even look into his gaze properly. 

Just a moon ago she was sharing stories of her time spent in Essos with him - sharing with him the deepest parts of her soul, as he mesmerized every shade of her violet eyes. He had done the same, of course. Spilled to her all of his biggest fears and doubts, opened up about the deep self loathing that followed him through life, something no crown or title would ever be able to squander. _Yet she did._

He had wanted to say it, wanted to explain to her how she was the only thing that had made him feel whole in this shit world they lived in. He wasn't sure what stopped him from saying it. The scream of the Queens dragon refocused his gaze on the horizon. _ Where was she right now?_ He caught himself wondering. 

“How is the King of the North?”

His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the kind Lord of White Harbor. He took no issue with the Mandery's, but he was the last person Jon wished to speak with right now. _King in the North. Not really, not anymore._ He still was unsure how to break the news that he had bent the knee. Sansa needed to hear it first. He had to tell his sister first, both of them. 

Thoughts of Arya were one of the few others outside of silver hair and Essoi oils that made him smile nowadays. 

“Lord Manderly.” He greeted formally, drawing back from the castle window he was leaning over, watching pensively at the two dragons as they circled the cold seas. It would be two days now before they could leave to meet the rest of the Southern army on the Kingsroad. 

Two more days, of leaving her under the cloak of night. He had hoped that the darkness would be enough concealment. He knew they weren’t being particularly cautious - _he wasn't being particularly cautious_ \- but he needed to see her, to be with her. 

“Wondrous beasts they are.” The older Lord mentioned, gesturing to the circling dragons. 

Jon hummed in agreement, as Rheagal dove deep beneath the black sea, coming up with water dripping from his emerald wings. 

“How do you suppose she brought them into this world?” Lord Manderly began again, leaving Jon to wonder what the man was hoping to get out of this conversation. “And as women no less, it’s almost unbelievable.”

Jon had to will himself not to react. Remind himself that he couldn’t present as so defensive over his Daenerys, what they had was an alliance - nothing more.

“Fire and Blood.” He responded simply, his cloak sweeped behind him as he turned to leave the tower. Lord Manderly’s suspicious gaze followed him out of the room. 

A raven flew from the window sill after the King departed, disappearing under the shadow of a Dragon. 

_Fire and Blood._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone unclear, this is a season 8 fix-it. As a warning, not everything will be presented like it was in the show - as I believe in a much more logical Game of Thrones universe, and have my own components to add to it. This will take much more than 8 chapters to sort out.


	3. above the broken places

Waves crashed gently against a sandy shore. Their rhythm was peaceful and it comforted her in a way she always imagined a mothers hug might. Perhaps the vastness of the sea could swallow her whole, could take her away from this place. 

_A fine life it would be, to be a sailor._

Delicate little fingers ran through silky white sands. The beaches of Braavos were beautiful this time of year, the sun shone brightly through a thin veil of clouds, and was hot upon her cheeks. 

Gulls squawked amongst the crashing waves. Providing her the sweetest companionship along the lonely beaches, sometimes she would even whisper to them. They never answered but she knew they always listened. 

“Daenerys!” 

Although still young his voice wrung out against the quiet in a way that seemed far too bitter and aged for a boy of three and ten. She turned her head behind her towards the voice, still reluctant to stand and leave the comforts of the sea. “Come on! You heard them, we need to leave this place!”

Of course she heard them. The sting of their rough hands pulling at her wrist hurt almost as fiercely as their words. Bruises burned more than flames. Viserys only sought to emphasize those bruises as he drug her through the stone streets and to the safety of the shore not long ago. 

He finally reached where she was seated amongst the sand. She felt his presence standing behind here right shoulders, waiting. Adults do this when they expect something of you, this she knows. 

“Vis,” She starts turning shyly and gazing up at him with wide eyes. “I don’t want to leave. I-I want to go home.” 

She knew she had made him angry before he even began to speak again. She could practically feel the heat radiating off of him in waves, burning against her hotter than the Braavosi sun. 

“_Home?_” He spat. Skinny fingers dug into her small shoulder blade pulling her up from the shoreline. She was dwarfed by his height. 

Violet met violet, one full of tears the other full of ire. 

“What do you not understand!?” He had her by both shoulders now, shaking her violently with each word. “There. Is. No. Home. Dany. We have nowhere left to go.” 

Her tears flowed freely now, cascading down her face in waves similar to the sea, similar to his rage. 

_No home?_

She didn’t understand that. 

She understood his anger.

They stared at each other for awhile then. Her tears usually only served to infuriate him further but this time for the briefest of moments she thought she saw swells in his eyes as well. He dropped his hands from her shoulders then, grabbing again at her already swollen wrist and pulling her back towards the stone pathways. 

“Perhaps we can try and find a place to stay here for a little while.” He countered, ignore her pleas to stop and yelps of pain. “We know some people along the western market, they may help us out for a few days. In the meantime we need to make a plan to leave Braavos.” 

_Leave?_

“But Vis. Why? Why do we need to go?”

He whirled around on her then - _the dragon_ \- pulling her wrist in such a way that had her crying out.

“What do you not understand Dany!? Sir Willem is dead. He’s gone.” 

_Where did he go?_ She didn’t understand. She still didn’t understand. Why did Sir Willem leave? Was he not coming back? Why would he leave them? Who would tell her stories about Ser Duncan the Tall and their world being in the eye of a great big giant? 

“W-Why?” 

He struck her then. Faintly, she knew it was coming but it still stung like a surprise.

“He’s dead Daenerys. Gone. People don’t come back when they die.” 

She brought both of her hands up to cover her face. She was too afraid to scream, too afraid to continue her tears, frozen in fear. 

He paused for a moment then, looking at her so intensely she thought he might burn her with his stare. He rubbed his thumb across her covered cheek before grasping her shoulders again, this time much more gently than before. He bent down a little lower to be even with her height - it’s what adults do when they’re trying to tell you something important. _Viserys wasn’t an adult though, not yet, not really._

“You should know all about that Dany,” he started, his voice was a stern whisper, as if he was trying to tell her something exceptionally important and exceptionally secret, she leaned into his voice almost eager to hear what he had to share. 

“You killed our mother after all.” 

She tore away from him so fast she nearly fell. Stumbling on small bare feet she scurried back towards the sea, back to the calm commanding ocean and the sweet summer seagulls. 

_Someday, I’ll fly away with you._

And someday, she did. 

xx

The western wind blew strong against her smooth face. The cold was so severe it pierced all the way up into her nose - _so very different from the suns of Braavos._ She and Jon walked in tandem together. Their footsteps echoing in perfect harmony down the walls of White Harbor. Their gazes met through their peripherals at the same instant. Each of them suppressing a tiny grin and a light laugh that fought to bubble to the surface. _We need to be better at this, more careful._

They had an important audience with the Lords of the eastern region of the north to attend. Many of them would be joining the pair in their journey up to Winterfell, in their journey to face death. However, discussions of who should remain in White Harbor and more critically, who would be sent here for safety was of the utmost important. 

Additionally, Jon felt the need to inform the Lords of his recent pledge to Daenerys. Of course, she wasn’t against the idea either, the north needed to be aware that their alliance wasn’t just for this war, but for all the wars to come. 

Tyrion, Varys and a variety of unsullied met her at near the entrance of New Castle’s Audience Chamber. Grey worm and Missendei were noticeably absent, a fact she thought very interesting. _Many things indeed._

“Your Grace.” Tyrion and Varys spoke quietly, bowing lightly as she motioned her unsullied to ready the door. Tyrion had voiced his concerns of discussing Jons bending the knee with some of the northern Lords before reaching Winterfell. Daenerys understood his reasoning, but Jon didn’t. He felt it was best to be as transparent as possible with the northern Lords. 

_”It wouldn’t be right to travel up the Kings Road for over a week and not tell the Lords of my commitments as their King. They’re expecting me to be honest with them, always.”_

Her righteous northern. 

The Lords of the North all rose at her and Jon’s entrance, unclear whether it was in respect for her or him, or the pair of them. The King and Queen quickly took their seats at the front of the room, many of the Lords raised an eyebrow when Jon gestured for Daenerys to take the Lords’ chair. 

Discussion regarding travel arrangements were among the first to erupt. It was agreed upon that the traveling Lords along with their small armies would march with Jon and Daenerys at the front of their united force, along with some Unsullied for the Queen's protection. They be trailed by the rest of the Unsullied forces and then finally by the Dothraki horde, who were to meet them on the Kingsroad on the morrow. 

“Once we get to Winterfell, it would be ideal to fill all the wagons with northern citizens, namely the women and children who can’t fight against the army of the dead.” Tyrion added, moving the topic of conversation away from the Dothraki and towards a more productive and agreed upon subject. 

“I’ve made sure that we have brought a wide array of resources from Dragonstone up the King’s Road to help provide for the impending winter.” Daenerys started, drawing in the attention of all the eyes in the room as she spoke. 

“I would be happy to leave some of those in New Castle, to provide for the women and children coming here, so that they too may be well looked after.” Lord Manderly met her gaze as she spoke, shaking his head in small appreciation. 

“Thank you yer’ Grace. We appreciate you aidin’ us in the war for the livin’.” His northern burr was thicker than any she had heard before, even Jon’s deep voice did not compare. 

She shook her head in response, shifting her gaze to Jon to continue with the strategy arrangements. 

“We’ll be leaving some dragon glass in White Harbor as well, incase we need to fall back to a different holdfast.” the faces in the room grimaced in agreement, it was a frightening thought - losing, _dying_. 

A few more nuances were worked out amongst the group; Tyrion adding his input in all areas he deemed necessary, sometimes it proved helpful, most times it proved unnecessary. 

“Well, if that will be all your Graces than I think it’s best we-” 

“There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you all before we begin our journey further north.” 

The entire room got silent with Jon’s request. Lords sat at attention, eager to hear what their King had to share with them. A strange feeling of nerves began to form in Daenerys’s stomach. 

_You are my Queen._ The words echoed in her mind, drawing up forgotten (_lost?_) memories - feelings of terror that she couldn’t quite place. Curious.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her heart and focus on Jon’s voice - Jon’s words. _Her Jon._ Instead, she was drawn out of her panic stricken daze by the outburst the shook throughout the castle’s great hall. 

_If they can’t respect me-_

“How can we expect her to honor the values in the North? To understand everything we've been fightin' for?”

“Her brother is the very person that kidnapped your aunt! That raped and murdered her, and started the war that tore apart the whole bloody north in the first place!”

_Wait, no. That’s not how that went. Is it?_

“Her Grace will absolutely uphold and honor the-

“The Dragon Queen needs to understand just how much blood we shed throughout the past wars! How many sons we lost!” Jon tried to counter again, raising his voice to remind that northern lords that this is not their place.

“Queen Daenerys is fully aware of all-”

_You are no mad queen._

“I agree with Lord Glover! How can we expect this _woman_ with her dragons to have any comprehension of what it’s like to put your sweat into something you believe in, even when the whole realm is against ya!” 

“Daenerys does understand that feeling, as best as anyone can.” He realized his mistake as soon as her name left his lips. He was not alone in this, the room went silent almost immediately, before the lingering question was finally voiced by Lord Manderly.

“I knew it.” He started, Jon forced himself to keep strong eye contact, daring him to continue. “You’ve been wooed by a pretty face, _King Snow_.”

_We sail together._

Daenerys schooled her features, trying not to allow her internal cringing to feature across her face. Conversely, rage washed over Jon almost instantly at the accusation, transforming his whole persona so intensely it could be felt throughout the room. Daenerys, fully aware of his impending eruption, stepped in to diverge the situation from any further escalation. 

_Ever the Queen._

“The King in the North and I are allies in the war to come and nothing more.” They’d never talked about what they would do if presented with this accusations, what they might say, what they may or may not deny.. “We spent the last several weeks together collecting dragon glasses and aligning ourselves with a variety of allies throughout the realm in order to defeat the most immediate threat, our focus has been and will be on the war with the dead and nothing more until that war is won.” 

Lying was never easy for her, she hoped her blooming love for Jon didn’t make it any harder. She could hardly look at him right now, but she felt his eyes on her nonetheless. 

This seemed to do little in aiding with the distrust and bitterness that carried throughout the room. _Should we have even bothered to refute it?_ It. Whatever _it_ was that was growing between them.

“Queen Daenerys didn’t come North to conquer it, she came here to save it.” Jon started, trying not to let his rage coat each and every word he uttered. “We need every soldier, ever man walking man we can find in order to help us win this war. Her Grace deserves nothing more than everyone’s respect and appreciation.” 

He paused after, the room still silent, waiting for something anything else from their once (_still?_) King. 

“We wouldn’t stand a chance without her.” Sir Davos added. Looking between Jon and Daenerys after he spoke. 

The northern lords hampered their protest following Sir Davos's words - for the time being. None immediately bowed to Daenerys, but there was a sense of understanding that filtered throughout the room. _We know no King, but the King in the North._

“If that will be all my Lords.” Daenerys rose from her chair, the rest of the great hall following suit. “We will be departing at dawn on the morrow, I expect everyone to be gathered and prepared by then.”

She took slow measured steps as she left the room, careful not to give anything away. She made no attempt to make eye contact with Jon, too terrified to see him. That fear ebbed at the back of her mind the entire walk back to her temporary chambers. 

_What was it that frightened her so?_

xx

The squawk of the Raven startled her, the message it carried did not. 

_The Queen is young and unmarried, Jon is young and unmarried._

Sansa wasn’t sure whether she should be grateful to Lord Manderly for sharing the news with her, or concerned that he was so willing to share information regarding her brother. He told the northern lords before all the others. Interesting. She would’ve advised against it, had he bothered to ask. 

He’d given her his crown. He’d given her _their_ crown. 

She could only imagine what aspects, _what wiles_, were used against her brother to bring him to this decision. 

She tried to picture a face of ethereal beauty. Fitted with long silver tresses and violet eyes. 

The only face she could picture was Margery’s. 

xx

The first thing he became aware of was soft sheets against his bare back, a bed so comfortable it couldn’t possibly be the one he had fallen into in White Harbor. His senses seemed to drift in slowly after that, he heard the pleasant sound of a light breeze sliding in through an open window. The wind was warm and grabbed at his hair pleasantly as it swung by. The room smelled of the light lemon scent, a smell he now always associated with Daenerys, along with traces of mint tea and something else he couldn’t quite identify - something sweet and new. 

He became aware quickly that he wasn’t alone amongst the sheets. He turned his head to see familiar silver locks leaning against the massive headboard to the bed they shared. 

She looked beautiful here, wherever they were. There was a happiness to her that he had only seen in the rarest of moments, but it was ever prevalent across her perfect features. He could live and die here, in the safety of their mystery bed. He spent a few moments admiring her before he was struck by the fact that she hadn’t awknowledged him yet. He hadn’t even noticed himself that she was distracted by something, something much more important. 

Those same silver locks where streaming from the tiny babe she held close to her breast. He breath caught in his throat and his body froze. He couldn’t bare to take his eyes off of the child - _her child? Our child?_

He became aware distantly that she was singing to the babe softly, it’s little arms were reaching up to pull at her hair and hold onto her chin. Tears burned in the back of his eyes for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. 

He broke his stupor, pushing himself up to get a better view of the babe. Vaguely, he was aware that he still wasn’t breathing. 

She seemed to catch his movement out of the corner of her eye, turning her gaze to him and giving him a smile so beautiful he thought his heart might just stop. She did that too him sometimes, her beauty render him completely immobile - entirely dumbstruck. 

“Look who it is Robb! Kepa is finally awake!” 

_Robb? Kepa?_

_Me?_

He felt a salty tear escape down the side of his face so soft and sudden it might not even be real. _Was any of this?_ Her attention was turned back to the babe now as she propped him up at a better angle so he could look at his father. 

Two pairs of grey stormy eyes met each other. If he thought his heart was going to break before this was something entirely new and so much more intense, he felt it in his bones. 

_My son._

The babe reached out to him now, with a wide smile and knowing arms. _My son._ He thought again, a mantra running through his head with each coo the child made.

Daenerys reached up, gently poking the babe on his tiny nose causing a fit of laughter to bubble out from chubby cheeks. He hadn’t even realized he was smiling until just now - a grin so big it nearly hurt. 

“Can you hold him for me?” She started, both of their eyes were still on the babe, but he knew she was speaking to him. “I need to go grab his hungry little sister.” She ended the sentence with another tap against his son - _against Robb’s_ \- nose. 

She turned amongst the sheets then, getting closer to him so that she could pass the babe along. His eyes never left his son as he reached to meet her halfway-

The rattling from the cold winds of winter beating against the window woke him with a start. He sat up with a gasp in the dark lonely room, he was sweating in the freezing sheets.

_My son._

He clawed desperately at the recesses of his memory, trying to burn the images of that perfect face in the forefront of his mind. 

_My Dany._

He fell back against the sheets with a smile. He had half a mind to go to her right then and there, to tell her about his dream, about the boy and the tender mention of a sister he had yet to meet. 

He couldn’t though. 

_You say you can’t have children._

He didn’t believe it of course. But, he knew that she did. She believed it so fiercely he feared telling her of this would only prompt pain from her, not hope, not the joy he was feeling now. Perhaps, for now, it was a dream best kept to himself. He laid his head full of dark curls back amongst the harsh pillows, willing himself to drift back into dreams of soft sheets and baby smells. 

Only, this time he didn’t dream of eyes of grey, but of those of an icy blue so cold they chilled him to the core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. My updates are going to be spacey for a little bit, holidays really interrupt everything. Anyways, as always I appreciate your feedback, it's what helps to motivate me to continue this concept. Let me know how you feel about the flashback portion, this is the first time we’re really seeing that. Next chapter will be significantly larger - as we will finally be making it to Winterfell!


	4. in winter we must protect ourselves

I.

Wintertown was a small little thing, nothing to be proud of, certainly nothing to showcase to a Queen. 

Yet, the northerns stood. Tall. Braggart. Unyielding. 

He looked down at them from atop his dark steed. A small bit of frustration bubbling in his blood at their proud looks. Frustration that was only tapered by the small amount of apprehension he saw stowed away in their cold eyes. 

_They’ll come to know you for who you are._

He spared a glance next to him, catching a small glimpse of her silver hair that wrapped loosely around her shallow hood. She had agreed to sail with him, to clamber up the Kingsroad with him regardless of the jeopardy it put her safety in. Ser Jorah had been quick to point this out. ‘Quick to keep them apart’ Ser Davos hed mentioned when they were alone later, the old sailor was the only person who Jon had actually shared his relationship to the Queen with. The onion knight was certainly more than just a hand, much more than just an advisor. He’d quickly become family, someone Jon would not only trust with his life, but with his secrets. 

His eyes traveled downward to the shining dragon chain that wrapped her petite frame. She agreed to travel up the Kingsroad, but was taking some minor precautions to conceal her identity. Yet, it was clear that a poorly kept hood did little to disguise who she was this up close to the northerns. _Good._

He made sure to maintain pace with her mount, still impressed with the skill she presented as a rider. Perhaps he shouldn’t be, he had seen her take to the skies on Dragonback after all. A spec of silver against a mass of black.

Would she ever cease to amaze him? 

He could only hope that the north would share in his awe. 

_I hope I deserve it._

Small hands moved upwards to unshield her face from his view. Violet eyes awoke something inside him the minute they met his own, he could do nothing to stop the surge of affection that coursed through his veins at the sight of her. He tightened his hands on the reins to combat the sudden urge he had to reach out and stroke her soft cheek. She smiled at him; more with her eyes than anything else, but he knew exactly what she was thinking. He nodded subtly, trying to reassure her without reaching out. 

_I won’t let anything happen to you, not now. Not ever._

She let out a small snort, rolling her eyes slightly but he swore he saw a soft blush creeping across her features. It was incredible how connected they had become. 

Suddenly the pair of them tore their eyes apart and up to the sky. The screeching of dragons commanded the attention of all those present. The abrupt commotion from the northerns as Rhaegal dove low, nearly skimming the tops of buildings, left him close to laughing. He could only wonder how she was managing. 

However, she seemed less than pleased over her sons display. He knitted his brows, trying desperately to catch her eye. He didn’t catch another glimpse of violet until they nearly met the gates. He’d never noticed how colorless Winterfell was before. 

II. 

For the first time, Daenerys was in no mood to flaunt her sons asoundingness. Normally, the awe-struck looks that replaced the judgement from the northerns would seep pride into her very core. But something in the back of her brain was screaming, and a familiar feeling of dread began building within each step they took closer to Winterfell. 

The snow was bleak and stung as it brushed across her face. Cold weather was still entirely new to her, and it fed in deeply to her bones. The only thing that seemed to starve off the unyielding ice was his warm body wrapped around her in every which way. Her Jon. 

He was safe. He was always safe. 

_Until he was not._

The thought whispered through her brain. Startling her so and leaving her wondering where it had even come from. The creaking open of the gates to the Castle pulled her out of her stupor. She turned to him quickly, searching his concerned face to get one more glimpse of him until he was taken by his family. 

She was awake the entirety of the night before. Tossing, turning and fighting down the rising anxiety that came whenever she thought of the Starks. She still had yet to meet the famed siblings, but somehow flashes of red hair and milky gazes plagued her dreams. 

It was odd. Feeling nervous. 

They crossed through the gates together. Unified. It was still a new concept for the both of them - being partners. She welcomed it with willingness. Eager to share in his burdens and in turn have him kiss away her doubts and fears. 

_Together._

What an incredible feeling it was. Not being so terribly alone. 

There was a small party waiting to greet the pair of them at the center of the courtyard. Immediately, she noted the orange hair caught in the wind like a flame. The cold stung her nose as she inhaled sharply. Somewhere, a part of her mind was begging her to leave, another part screamed - _Dracrays._

The sharp, certainness of these feelings unsettled her. Not because they were uncomfortable, but because she could not place them. 

A white and black horse trotted quickly to meet the party gathering before them, stopping an appropriate distance away and allowing their riders room to depart. 

Jon was off first. 

He was quick to take a small figure into his arms. The two shared the same shade of hair, and their bodies were lost amongst each other in a tangle of arms. 

“Little sister.” She heard him whisper quietly, pulling back to kiss the top of the younger girls head. Her heart leapt at the sight. Seeing him so sweet and tender with someone else, someone whom he loved. It warmed her. 

“You’re so much changed.” A voice much too strong for some so small. Alarming. 

He still held his sister by the shoulders, their gazes taking each other in, studying all the differences, the little nuances of time. He gave her a small smile, one Daenerys only noticed through the crinkling she caught surrounding his eye from her position at his far side. With the unspoken promise of more conversation, her turned next to the older sister. Quick to scoop her up into a similar hold, one that lasted much shorter. 

Ravens circled from above, so close she could nearly hear the flapping of wings. 

She was off her horse now. Still waiting behind for him to finish greeting his family. She was marveled by the sight of it all, and the way in which they interacted could not help the small part of her that was growing green with jealousy.

_The last dragon?_

She had always longed for a brother like that, one so different from Viserys. Yet, even the thought of Rheagar as of late left her stomach twisted with vines. Another feeling she could not explain. 

Dragons screeched in the distance again. 

He was speaking to his brother now, bending low to meet the young lords height. Brandon Stark gazed directly at her over his brothers shoulder. His dark eyes cut right through her like polished swords, and she quickly caught herself at a loss of breath. She righted herself immediately, doing her best not to stumble while trying to grapple with this sudden and striking fear that coursed through her like dragonfire. 

“Welcome back, Daenerys Stormborn.” 

Her world went black. 

III. 

Tyrion jumped out of the carriage before her body even fell into Jon’s arm. The (former) King in the North was quick to grab her, scooping her up and against him with ease. 

People were shouting all around him now, Dothraki calling out for their Khaleesi, Unsullied rushing by him in a blur of Valyrian. 

“Your Grace!” He shouted amongst the chaos, reaching her side the same time Ser Jorah did, Varys swift behind them. 

The many shouts of ‘what happened’ all went unanswered. Jon was searching the Queens face as he gathered her up in his arms, her features were soft and unmoving. 

They all rushed to get inside immediately. The now Warden of the North calling for a maester and bursting through doorways to lay Daenerys in her new chambers. Tyrion followed steps behind, calling for water, heated linens, smelling salts; anything he could think of to wake the Queen. 

Sansa came with them as well, confusion writ clear across her changed features. 

“Has this happened before?” She asked from the doorway, Missendei squeezing in quickly past her right to the Queen bedside to stand with Ser Jorah. “Has she ever…?”

“No.” Jon answered first. His voice stern yet laced with concern. He was still leaned over the Queen, making small room for the arriving Maester. His hands held her face, thumbs brushing against her temples. 

“No,” Ser Jorah reiterated, eyeing Jon before turning towards the Lady of Winterfell. “It never has, not even in our time crossing the Red Sea.” 

“Our Queen is not one to fall so easily.” 

“If not the cold, or the end of a long journey than..?”

“It was me.” Brandon Stark’s declaration silenced the room immediately. Jon finally looked up from Daenerys, studying his brother intently across the room. “She wasn’t ready to see me again. It must’ve been all too much at once.” 

“Again?” Tyrion question, wracking his brain for any potential reason as to why their paths may have intersected at any point. He didn’t recall ever hearing about the Starks summering in Essos. 

“Yes,” The look the boy was giving him was quite unnerving. “Things are much different now.” 

“What did you do to her?” Jon questioned, rising from the bed to stand a face the cripple. “What do you mean by again Bran?”

Tyrion had never known the Starks to have such tempers, it was clear the bastard was trying to contain a roaring anger ready to be directed at his newly united brother. Typically, he would be giving the Warden a sidelong look by now. Silently begging him to be less obvious regarding his relationship to the Queen, but even Tyrion wanted answers. 

Brandon Stark didn’t say a word. Dark eyes locked with Jon’s similar ones, the white wolf pushed again for answers. The room grew eerily tense, even as Maester Wolkan thrust his way through, walking up to Missendei who had the Queen’s hand. 

“Will she be alright?” Ser Jorah address the Maester now, drawing some of the attention away from the one-sided confrontation occurring in the center of the room. Tyrion’s gaze flickered between the pair still. The Maester paused for a moment before answering, assessing his Queen much to the dismay of Grey Worm, who at any point looked ready to slit his wrinkling throat. 

“She seems to be fine,” Grey eyes still locked across a full room. “Perhaps, faint from exhaustion. I understand it’s been a long journey?”

Jorah was quick to answer, he and Missendei detailing the journey. No one else moved, Jon still standing immediately at the Queens bedside and Bran still perched partially in the doorway. A flash of white snuck by his sturdy wheelstool. The direwolf towered over Tyrion, making his way to his master’s side immediately. Jon briefly broke eye contact with his brother, reaching out to grasp his direwolf in greeting. 

Tyrion watched in fascination as the wolf nuzzled into his touch, taking a moment to press against the Stark bastard before suddenly jumping up onto the foot of the bed. His move was protested against by many, Missendei yelping in surprise and the Maester immediately advising against it, Grey Worm’s grip on his spear so mighty his knuckles were a stark white. 

“Down Ghost.” Jon urged, kneeling at the bedside to get even with the wolf. The direwolf wouldn’t budge, laying his face along the Queens legs in mild protest. 

“Look,” Bran started, immediately capturing the attention of everyone in the room, Jon standing up again to meet his words. “She’s awaking.” 

The King in the North stood up, only to sit immediately down again - hand reaching for the Queens without thought. This time, Tyrion felt himself outwardly cringe. 

He quickly glanced up to see the gaze of the Lady of Winterfell, it was an action that she did not miss either - even her little sister (Arya, if he remembered correctly) raised an eyebrow at the move. 

“Clear the room.” He demanded immediately. The Starks had surely already picked up on their brother’s secret, he didn’t need anymore prying eyes invading the privacy of his Queen. 

Sansa raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn’t sure if she was surprised by his loyalty to the Targaryen or mildly offended. 

“Now.” Jon finished his command. The Maester was the first to rise, shuffling out quickly only to be followed by Sansa who turned swiftly and stalked down the hallway. The other Stark sister followed suit, taking her brother and wheeling after. Grey Worm and Missendei were both reluctant to move, they rose slowly and moved to the hallway, lingering as too not be so far. 

Only he, Jon, Ser Jorah and the Direwolf remained. 

Having the space to move he finally walked around away from behind Ser Jorah and towards the base of the bed frame. He watched as his Queen’s face contorted, a sure sign she was waking. 

Ser Jorah feel to his knees across from Jon to the left of the Queen, he too noticing her motions. The Warden of the North stared briefly at his direwolf, Tyrion supposed it almost seemed as if he was asking the wolf something - like there was some sort of communication between the two. 

“Jon.” Her voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but it echoed through the room like a fierce command. He couldn’t help himself not to look and see the defeat spelled across the Mormont’s features, and he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of that deep within his own heart as well. 

“Perhaps,” he started looking warily between the rousing queen and the two men whose hearts she had completely. “It’s time we leave.” 

The room stilled with the exception of Daenerys reaching up with a shaking hand to rub at her eyes, her other still firmly in the bastard of Winterfell’s grasp. 

“Ser Jorah.” He urged again, looking pointedly at the knight now.

The old bear grumbled a bit, looking between the Queen and her newly appointed Warden before rising slowly. 

“I’ll be just outside Khaleesi.” He whispered quietly, nodding his head firmly at her as her eyes attempted to focus. 

“As will I, Your Grace.” Lord Tyrion finished, following Ser Jorah out. He heard the beginnings of whispering within the room before he pulled the door shut tight. The image of his Queen quite literally dwarfed by that direwolf burning into his memory. 

Direwolves, Dragons, and Deadmen. 

_Sounds like the beginning of quite a song._

IV.

“What in seven hells was that?” 

The great hall erupted amongst the confusion. The many Lords of the North who gathered for the coming war all spewing in impress and indignation across the expansion space. 

Sansa huffed in annoyance, not so much at their outrage but more so at the situation entirely. She had no answer for the Lords, and was still fumbling around with the new affirmation that Jon was, in fact, in love with the Dragon Queen. 

Bran sat to her right, eyes out observing the raging Lords in indifference. Arya remained at her left side, her eyes on Sansa instead. 

“What was that?” Her sister whispered across the table. Sansa turned to her slowly, her temper being stoked beneath the surface at the question - _obviously, she hadn’t the fairest idea_ \- only she found Arya gaze to be directed at their brother and not herself. 

She turned too, waiting for him to answer. 

“Daenerys Targaryen has much yet to understand still.” Bran started, or at least, she assumed he had. However, he seemed to not be following up his statement with any further information, only serving to annoy her more so. 

“What Bran? What does she have to learn?” 

He turned towards her now. Directing his emotionless gaze to her blue eyes, he opened his mouth slightly, clearly pondering what he was going to tell them-

”What do we even call the King in the North now?” 

Lyanna Mormont’s insisting voice interrupted her brothers response, calling for the attention of the Lady of Winterfell much to her dismay. She turned her gaze from her brother and back towards the center of the room, at the small girl commanding all’s attention. 

“You call him Lord and Warden that’s what.” Arya answered for her, looking the small girl up and down almost asking to be defied. Lyanna Mormont squinted her gaze at Arya, clearly not at all content with such an answer. 

“It’s not important what you call him.” Sansa started, ever the politician armed with her bipartisan retort. 

“Not important?” Lyanna Mormont squinted further, taking small steps to place her tiny frame in the center of the great hall. “We named him King in the North, and now you’re going to tell me that’s not important.” 

“It’s not. Not now, not as it once was.” This did not seem to be the response the lords were hoping for, she could feel the tension in the room thickening - she knew she needed to capitalize on that before it turned against her. 

“The dead are at our doorstep. They are marching down here and planning to cut us out one by one, regardless of our house, rank, status or any of that.” She had the full attention of the room now, all eyes on her, waiting. 

“The dead don’t care for titles. So we shouldn’t either.”

“So says the lady of Winterfell,” Lord Karstark sneered from his position seated below. Looking up with her as if he thought he had even a slight chance in a battle of wits. 

“You chose Jon - a bastard no less - and in turn Jon chose you, Jon chose the North. He brought us these allies to defeat death.” She looked between all of the Lords now, dearing anyone to interrupt. “If you think you have a better self of looking death in the eyes and taking it on yourself, than I suggest you leave her with your titles and ready for battle.” 

She finished strong. Strong enough to see the approving head knodds from some of the surrounding Lords. Strong enough for Lady Mormont to return to her empty seat, strong enough for Lord Karstark to sink into his chair. It was enough to dismiss some of the strain coursing through the Great Hall as a collective. Enough to dissuade any arguments and outcries. 

_Enough to win._

V. 

She had grown accustomed to the weight of the direwolf on her legs. They had remained this way long enough to see the sun change, Jon staying by her side the entirety of the time. 

His was the first face she focused in on when she woke, and the only one she had seen since. Grey Worm and the unsullied informed her that they were posted outside of her chambers, but they did not enter her door. Even Missendei did not come in to help her take out her braids and and to ready each other for bed. A task she had given up on quickly after the boat. Still apart of Daenerys’s always expected her.

It was only Jon. 

He peppered her face with kisses when she finally came to, squeezing her hands and asking her a number of questions most strongly centered around how she was feeling. The frightening thing was she had no answer for him truly. At least, no direct explanation as to why the words of his crippled brother could have possibly caused her to faint like a fair maiden. 

Something inside of her was pushing her to be more honest with him, to be more open - as if that were even possible. Jon was the closest she had _ever_ been with another man. She told him everything about her past: Drogo, Rheago, the fire, Slaver’s Bay, Meeran, the entirely of her childhood painted out for him like a masterpiece. 

In turn, she knew the same about him. His experiences at the wall (and more importantly beyond it) what it was like growing up in Winterfell, and with siblings and all the love and hatred that comes with them. What it was like to be a bastard - a story not unlike her own, it’s never easy to be the outsider, the _foreigner._

She didn’t think she could be more open with him, but she has been hiding some things from him, mainly how she’s been feeling since the walked off that boat in White Harbor. 

She bore it out for him there, amongst the heated linens and with the warmth of his direwolf. Explained the unexplainable dread that had crawled into her heart, the foreboding the wrung with each of her thoughts. He tired to make sense of it, tried to convince her that it was the looming war against the dead. 

Perhaps he was right. 

Perhaps not. 

She didn’t tell him about the dreams. About the images sons and daughters her brain tormented her with, their soft hands and strong hugs. About the gleaming blue eyes that followed her throughout her old rooms in Meeran - waiting to strike, to kill. Or even the ravens that pecked apart at her skin until she was raw and bleeding, circling her from above and cawing out for someone (something?). 

No. 

Instead, they spent their time curled up against the headboard. Jon introduced her officially to his best friend - the direwolf that had already seemed to take a strange affinity towards her. They talked about his siblings again, briefly and in hushed whispers. Discussing how she certainly left a strong first impression, and how difficult it would not be to win the respect of the Lords after such a scene - her hand was surely in for a treat riddling that one out. 

Both of them knew they were most likely needed in the Great Hall or amongst some war council. Yet, no one came for them - and the sense of foreboding she had expressed seemed to be at least somewhat mutually shared as he was in no significant rush to leave her side. 

Now, in his arms, she was whispering words of Valyrian. She was trying to teach him the language so that he could command the unsullied forces alongside Grey Worm, in all the wars yet to come. 

“Lēda nyke.” she repeated again slowly, looking up at him to show him the way she was moving her lips for him to mimic. He licked his lips slowly, studying her closely for a moment before trying himself. 

“Lēde nuke.” He attempted carefully, she laughed lightly, covering it with a delicate hand, trying her best to not discourage him. “Lēda nyke.” She said again, this time much more sternly. He scrunched his face in mild frustration, looking down at her and giving her nose a quick peck before giving it another go. 

“Lēda nyki.” She nuzzled up beneath his neck, content just to be close to him. _Close enough._ she had whispered, closing her eyes to breathe in the scent of him for a moment. 

“I’m gettin’ better at least.” He started, pulling her closer and giving a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

“No one would argue with that my Lord.” She mocked lightly, falling into him further and taking the time to admire the sleeping direwolf at the foot of their bed. 

“Hmm, sounds like I have work to do if we’re still not past the point of formalities. Aye, your Grace?” He jabbed right back, which they both followed with a short laugh before falling into a peaceful silence, both grateful simply to just be for a bit. 

“I do have one more question for you,” His voice was soft, coupled with his strong heartbeat in her ear and his wolf’s steady breathing. 

“Hmmm?” She questioned, too content to lift her head away from his secure chest. _Safe._

“The word Kepa.. What does that mean in Valyrian.” 

Her heart went from melting too ice in an instant. She stilled in his arms, rigid to the touch - frozen inside and out. 

“What?” She asked plainly, he pulled back from her a little trying to get a better angle at her face to understand the sudden shift. She wasn’t about to allow him the leverage, remaining frozen, eyes locked on the direwolf, too afraid to spare a glance. _You say you can’t have children._

“Kepa?” 

The wolves head turned to face her now, woken from his deep sleep. Red eyes met violet, and she was left breathless. 

VI. 

The contrast between the red leaves of the Weirwood tree and the white of fresh snow was always a marvel to him. Perhap it was because Winterfell was more partial to colors in the summer, when he was younger than it was in the winter, but the tree seemed even more awe-inspiring to him than ever before. 

_Perhaps I am becoming a bloody poet after all._

_A fool is a man in love._

The crisp snow crunched beneath his feet as he circle the tree, breaking the silence that met him in the Godswood. He wasn’t particularly the most devout follower of the Old Gods -especially after spending time outside of the realm of the living- but he figured now was as good a time as any to ask for their support. 

_Just keep my family safe._

He bargained lightly, thinking of cruel blue eyes and restless wights. 

_Keep her safe._

He stared into the bloody face of the intricate tree. Willing them to answer his call, to hear his plea - _please._

“How’d you survive taking a knife to the heart?”

He almost startled at her intrusion. Whipping around quickly to meet her steely gaze, eyes to match his own. 

He smiled before answering, relishing in the chance to finally take her in after all this time, their reunion (if you could even call it that) had been rushed at best. “I didn’t.” He spoke softly taking a few steps towards her. She went from across the Godswood to in his arm within the blink of a moment, her tiny body pressed up against so different than how he remembered. 

_Little sister._

He felt as though he might cry. _Truly a bleeding poet now eh?_ She broke away from him first pulling back to show off the blade he had given her so long ago. She kept it safe, and it kept her safe all the same. 

They swapped stories under the subtle sun for a fair bit of time. Huddling close beneath the protective red leaves and relishing in each other’s company once again. 

“So, tell me about this Dragon Queen.” She finally brought it up, eyeing him from across the way, the Weirwood tree watching them from the right. He sighed lightly, already noting the mild distaste within her tone. 

“She’s like the Targaryen’s of old, I imagine,” He started. She had once loved Visenya, absolutely idolizing her ability to fight atop a dragon, bending to no norms determined by men. She steady her gaze at him, urging him to continue. “She fights for her people, she fights for what is right, she’s good Arya.” He paused a moment, meeting her eyes fully now. “She’ll make for an incredible Queen someday.”

Heart fluttering at the thought of her, he could only imagine what is to come for Daenerys Stormborn. For his Dany. 

“You love her.” 

It wasn’t a jab. There was no anger to her words. Just an observation. 

He nodded lightly. He wasn’t afraid to say it outloud, wasn’t ashamed of it. If anything, he was proud, more than proud. What an extraordinary woman to love. 

_What is honor compared to a woman’s love?_  
She nodded slowly too. Taking in his admission, and his words. 

“I hope she knows how lucky she is,” She starts, hand drifting down to the top of needle ever so slightly. “To have someone like you there to protect her.” 

He wanted to protest, to inform Arya that she was in no need of his protection - had she not spotted the two massive Dragons that swarmed the castle walls? 

“She deserves it.” 

His sister smiles now. Hand moving away from the blade and down towards the downy snow. He shared in her smile, trying to show her unspokenly how earnest he was being. _Perhaps I need to speak with-_

The harshness of the snow broke his thought immediately as it collided with the side of his face. He turned to her aghast, just in time to see her wrangling up another shape in between gloved hands. 

“Oh come on!” She started, laughing at his shocked disposition. “You’re a man in love now! Someone’s gotta give yer shit for it!” 

Another snow shape, this one landing directly on his shoulder spreading across the fur of his coat. _Oh, so that’s how were going to play?_

He’d like to say he was quick to move, but really he’d more than likely say the bulky coat and weighty sword slowed him down. He chased his little sister throughout the Godswood, dodging expertly made snow shapes and tossing haphazard ones of his own creation her way. They made it just to the edge of the wood, when someone new finally entered the makeshift arena. 

“Sansa.” They both called in unison, dropping their offending weapons. A part of him momentarily thought of dragging her into the tousle - _Honestly, what was becoming of him? Daenerys had his heart melting in every which way as of late._ \- but her face seem grave, and instead he took a step closer to her, a feeling a dread falling over him like fresh snow. 

“It’s Bran,” Sansa started, if he wasn’t tense before surely he was now. 

“He saw something Jon, he saw her Dragon. It’s….” She paused again, breaking eye contact trying to come up with the words to continue. He heard his heartbeat in his ears, his mind already coming to the conclusion she had yet to reveal. 

“It’s one of them now.” 

_Dany._

VII. 

_Three dragon eggs called out to her. Begging to be bathed amongst the flames. She reached in with them, and felt nothing. _

_Three dragons rose from the pyre. Scratching and screaming their way across her body. Spectators bowed, and they would never cease. _

_Three dragons soared through the great poison water. Diving in and out between ocean waves, eager for land. For war. For home. _

_Three dragons followed beyond a wall built of ice. Winds cold against warm scales. Fire, a respite to death once again. Until it wasn’t. _

_Two dragons wait outside castle walls. Calling out for their lost brother. There song goes on forever._

_Three heads, has the dragon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bit of a heavy note for you guys this time. First and foremost I wanted to give some disclaimers. For one, I will not be able to pay homage to everyone perspectives. Stating the obvious I am clearly partial to Jon and Dany, they’re definitely going to be our main POVs throughout the next few chapters, however for plot sake it is crucial for me to add in differing perspectives. One person we won’t be hearing from ever is Bran, he knows far far too much as it is.
> 
> Secondly, I ask that you assume that the same events that occured in the unfortunate last season with some of our supporting characters remains the same. Obviously, there will be significant differences along the way, and those will be clearly spelled out. Assume certain things such as Cersei uniting with Euron and the Golden Company and the rescuing of Yara to be happening in congruence with all of this. 
> 
> I understand that this is a bit of a different way to go about a so called “fix-it” if you will, fan fiction. So, for clarity’s sake, and while I’m clearly in the mood to be giving spoilers, I will tell you this:  
i. There will be a betrayal. Still unbeknownst as to whom it will come from, but there will be a significant betrayal that comes to play a little later in the story.  
ii. I’d like to think it’s obvious at this point, but, there will be babies. I am in full support of the boat baby that we were promised and fully plan and bringing them to light here. Perhaps not entirely in the way that is anticipated, but there will be babies.  
iii. A large portion of character we hold dear are going to die. That is not only the way of life, but also the way of thrones, and most importantly the way that I intend to write my story. To all those who were hoping for a Walt Disney ending, I am afraid that you have come to the wrong place.


End file.
